Undertow | Ekko x Reader

53

You squeezed your eyes shut, hands flying to your skull, trying to ground yourself, trying to breathe, but everything was wrong. A high-pitched ringing tore through your ears, deafening and relentless, like an explosion frozen in time. You sucked in another ragged breath, but your chest felt too tight, like something was pressing down on you.

Your surroundings flickered into focus in jagged, disjointed fragments—

The walls, covered in neon scrawls of graffiti. The air, thick with the scent of gunpowder and oil. The dim, flickering glow of overhead lights.

No. No, no, no—this wasn't right.

You had been there. Back on the battlefield, the ground slick with blood, bodies collapsing one by one around you. You had pulled the trigger. Too much Hextech, too much power—

You should be dead.

Your breath hitched violently.

Something cold pressed against your shoulder, grounding you just enough to blink through the haze. Your vision cleared, and you found yourself staring into a pair of sharp, mismatched eyes.

Jinx.

She was crouched beside you, her grip firm but not forceful, watching you with something dangerously close to concern. Her blue hair framed her face in messy waves, and her expression was unreadable—half amused, half something else, something darker.

Your pulse pounded in your ears. You swallowed, forcing your gaze to shift, and your eyes landed on another figure just behind her.

Isha.

She sat on the floor by the couch you were lying on, arms resting on her knees, her gaze sharp and unreadable.

The room was too quiet, too still.

Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into your palms as you tried to steady your breathing, tried to understand.

How?

Your breath is still uneven, your head still pounding, but you force yourself to push past it. The disorientation, the sheer wrongness of everything—it presses down on you like a weight, suffocating, unbearable. 

You blink hard, shaking your head slightly as if that will help steady the spiraling chaos in your mind. Your throat is dry, raw, but you manage to speak, voice hoarse and laced with urgency. 

"What happened?" you rasp. "How am I alive? What happened to the others?" 

Jinx huffs out a breath, somewhere between amusement and exasperation, shifting her weight back onto her heels. "Woah, slow down, would ya?" 

You give her a sharp look, jaw tightening. You're serious, and she knows it. The haze in your mind is still thick, but you shove it aside, focusing only on the need for answers. You need something—anything—to make sense of this. 

Jinx sighs, blowing a stray strand of blue hair out of her face before resting her elbows on her knees. 

"Well, for starters, you stole your gun back from a reckless, stupid Isha." 

At that, Jinx casts a glare toward the other girl, who sits stiffly with her arms crossed, avoiding eye contact. The air between them crackles with unspoken tension, but you barely register it, your mind too focused on the unraveling mess of everything. 

Jinx shrugs before continuing. "As for how you're alive? Yeah, I got no fucking clue." She gestures vaguely with her hands. "But if I had to bet, I'd say it's got something to do with whatever the hell Singed did to you."